Pan Post 111 takes place in the Phortress of Phractal where Phractal views the aftermath of one of HorseGod's crazy parties. The HorseGod accidentally reveals that he is on good terms with Minos Mootchief, lord of the alitaurs who attended the party, but is spared from details when Bridgadier-Lieutenant Shileesi of the Pan-Cosmic Command arrives. He reveals that he is with the Pan Cosmic Command Cosmovironmental Conservation Committee and makes accusations against Phractal for littering the Multiverse. Phractal informs Shileesi that he sheds transdimensional crystals, which has led to thousands of portals naturally occurring on the planet Jupiter and falls under his own jurisdiction. He also emits a gaseous astral flux, which HorseGod refers to as transdimensional farts, but insists he performs these natural functions away from populated areas. Shileesi agrees to check the calenders to ensure that the people of Discharding, who use the gaseous astral flux in their Engines, arrived after Phractal left the waste behind. Eternius then wakes and throws up on Shileesi.


Cosmic Littering

The Phortress of Phractal is currently drifting in the Deep Void between universes. Distant cosmos are starlike pinpricks of light. The gigantic crystalline castle emits its own glow, yet the Netherwyrms that prowl the Deep Void know to avoid it.

Inside the throne room is a total mess in the aftermath of a drunken party. From his crystal throne, the crystalline-fractal-appearing god Phractal surveys it critically.

Phractal: I don't know why I let you keep slumming here.

The HorseGod, who can really hold is alcohol and never has a hangover, is up and moving perkily about, cleaning. He steps over the snoring EditorGod as he answers.

HorseGod: Because I know how to throw really great parties.

Phractal: Really messy parties, you mean. Those alitaurs are crazy wild.

HorseGod: I know! Ain't it great?

Phractal: 'Great' is not the term I would use.

HorseGod: If it bothers you so much, why not leave the room?

Phractal: I'm a transdimensional deity. I'm more or less nearly everywhere at once. So it's virtually impossible for me to leave. Besides, I thought alitaurs worked for the God-Monarch Minos Mootchief, not you.

HorseGod: Minos and I are on good terms.

Phractal: Are? That would suggest you still speak to him, and know where he and his fellow God-Monarchs are now.

The HorseGod shifts his eyes in a cagey manner.

HorseGod: Er, no, of course not. I just mean I was on good terms with him! So, the alitaurs he left behind when Mega Jonestown Prime vanished don't mind deferring to me in his place.

Phractal: If you say so...

HorseGod: Besides, if you're omnipresent, wouldn't you know where Minos and Mega Jonestown Prime are?

Phractal: Nearly omnipresent. There's quite a lot of places where I am not there, and even most of the places where I am present, I am not fully aware of what is going on there.

HorseGod: That explains why you ignored the hot alitaur chick who was hitting on you last night...

A knocking comes at the giant crystal gate.

HorseGod: I'll get it.

The HorseGod, unusually for a deity, doesn't mind getting his hands dirty or doing menial tasks. This may be a side effect of spending much of his time in the company of rather more grandiose gods who look down on him.

Phractal: I'm already there.

Phractal doesn't move from his throne, yet the grinding of the crystal gate opening can be heard, and footsteps herald the arrival of a guest into the throne room. The guest is wearing a PCC uniform, and a badge that identifies him as Bridgadier-Lieutenant Shileesi.

Shileesi: There you are! We never received a notification that you changed your address.

Phractal: I didn't. I've always been in my Phortress.

Shileesi: Yes, but until recently it dwelt within the NeSiverse.

Phractal: No, it did not. Yes, I spent some time there, but that much in the grand scheme of things. Why does everyone always assume I'm a local NeSiversian god? I'm a transdimensional entity existing throughout the Deep Void, for my sakes!

Shileesi: Hmmm, if you say so.

He makes a notation on his clipboard.

Shileesi: Anyway, I am here on behalf of the Pan Cosmic Command Cosmovironmental Conservation Committee.

HorseGod: The PCCCCC? Try say that ten times fast.


The HorseGod and Sileesi stare at Phractal.

HorseGod: Sometimes you are just no fun at all. Do you have to take everything literally?

Phractal: Yes.

The HorseGod facepalms.

Phractal: And why are you here, Brigadier-Lieutenant? As a transdimensional entity, I approve of your cosmovironmental work.

Sileesi: Your actions bely your words, Phractal.

Phractal: What?

Sileesi brandishes several slips of paper from a thick sheaf.

Sileesi: Multiple citations of cosmic littering. There are dozens in this sheaf alone, and hundreds of sheafs in our file cabinets at the office.

Phractal: That's preposterous. I've never done anything harmful to the cosmic environment at all! And why would you write up all these ridiculous citations and then only confront me about them now?

Sileesi: As I said, we could not locate you, as you never informed the Pan Cosmic Postal Service of your address change.

He looks over his spectacles disapprovingly at Phractal.

Phractal: I already told you-- ugh, I hate bureaucracy. So what are these so-called citations?

Sileesi: I have here tickets of you trailing fractalline shards in various locales.

Phractal: It's called shedding. You don't write snakes up for shedding their scales, do you?

Sileesi: Snakes don't have scales made up of transdimensional crystal. You do. In many cases, these shards of yours have led to much disorder and mayhem. There's even a documented case of one being used by locals to create a weapon that can shear rifts into spacetime!

Phractal: Well, I can't very well help that I shed. Besides, one could say that all portals are rifts in spacetime, and that falls within my purview.

Sileesi: Another citation here is for industrial waste on a planet called...let me see... Joo Puh Ter.

Phractal: Jupiter? That's not industrial waste, that was me taking a dump on Marduck's front porch and setting fire to it. I don't have a dog, after all.

Sileesi: This industrial waste led to multiversal instability in that region, spawning a nexus of hundreds of not thousands of portals on the planet.

Phractal: Again, not seeing the problem here. Portals fall within my purview.

Sileesi: And here I have a citation of you releasing toxic afterchemicals into an inhabited and civilized universe. Discharding is the name, I believe.

Phractal: The frack? Are you talking about the gaseous astral flux that I excrete?

HorseGod: Transdimensional farts.

Phractal glares at the HorseGod.

Phractal: I am a divine entity made of magic multiversal crystal. I do not have a digestive system, and I most certainly do not 'fart'.

HorseGod: They sound like farts, they smell terrible, and they emit from your posterior region. Close enough.

Phractal: Bah. Anyway, I only get those excretions when I've swallowed a terrible hyperdimensional wrinkle or flux of some kind. I can tell you for a fact that I directed all of it - well, most of it anyway, I couldn't direct all of it - into an uncivilized and uninhabited universe. I instituted a time wrinkle into it so that any future excretions--

HorseGod: Transdimensional farts.

Phractal: --go there as well.

Sileesi: So you claim, but Discharding is quite populous.

HorseGod: I know of Discharding. I'm acquainted with a marquis there. Though they built their civilization there eons ago, it must have been well after Phractal farted there. And if those farts--

Phractal: Excretions of gaseous astral flux!

HorseGod: --are the power source of their steampunk[Ext 1] Engines, as I suspect, then it's likely BECAUSE of said farts that they settled there.

Sileesi: Hmm, I suppose I can issue a petition to the Department of Coordinates and Calendars to double-check the timeframe of those events. As you may know, time varies wildly between universes.

Phractal: Hello, transdimensional entity here. Of course I know.

Eternius the Omnarrator chooses to stumble in at that point, looking blearily around in the throes of his half-drunken stupor. He sees Sileesi and shuffles over.

Eternius the Omnarrator: Whash thish? Anudder vi****or? We'sh all outta *hic* beer, dude...

Sileesi: Trust me, I do not want whatever you've been imbibing-- AUGH!

Eternius retches all over him.


External References

  1. Steampunk article, Wikipedia.
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